Taking Chances
by Hanna Marin
Summary: Puck and Rachel bake together, and this leads to a tentative friendship. I suck at summaries. Reviews motivate me!
1. Chapter 1

_Taking Chances- Part 1_

If you had asked Puck where he spent his Friday nights, his answer sure as hell wouldn't have been "Rachel Berry's house". And yet, that was where he found himself. Right now he was standing in the doorway of her kitchen. Her dads had opened the door for him on their way out. He watched her washing her hands, wearing the same dark blue dress she had worn when she tearfully sang to Finn...

Wait. Hold the fuck up.

Was it...shorter? Jesus Christ. Had she grown or something? Actually, now that he looked more closely, it was a slightly different dress, with ice blue capped sleeves and morenof a pleated skirt...Why was he even paying attention? He wasn't exactly a details guy. The more pressing question was why he was there in the first place. Rachel, in her usual take-charge way, had created a sign up list for baked goods to sell. All the profits were to go towards Burt Hummel's exorbitant hospital bills. Santana and Brittany had signed up to make lemon bars together, Mercedes had signed up for distributing the goods at her church, Tina and Mike for green tea cheescake, and Finn and Artie for pudding.

She had, of course, asked Finn to help her first, but Puck had overheard him mumble something about always burning stuff. She had looked so crushed after his refusal that Puck found himself offering to help before he had even realized what he was doing. The duo had completely different reactions: she with a dazzling smile, and Frankenteen with a scowl.

"You came!" she exclaims cheerily, breaking him out of his reverie and hurrying towards ensues in their close proximity. Her hands are resting lightly on her slim hips, arms tense, as if they want to release into a hug. His hands are firmly in his pockets.

"Yeah," he settles for, "said I would, didn't I?"

"Well, thank you," she says, finally deciding to stand a little on tiptoe and kiss him on the cheek.

All things that rise must fall, so she places her heels back on the limestone floor. Puck can feel a cool imprint on his cheek. He caught of her chapstick when she kissed him, so now he'sgoing to smell like fruit all day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

She turns around and starts getting bowls and such out of the cupboards.

"The recipe for cookies is on the fridge. Could you get the ingredients?"

He complies, wrinkling his nose at all the tofu and rabbit food in the fridge.

"So I have a plan for the baking..."

Of course she does.

"Well, first I made a playlist so that our work will go by faster," she says, gesturing to a small, round table topped by a vase filled with wildflowers and iPod speakers.

"...Kay."

"I made it for you. You said you were interested in singing pieces by Jewish artists, so... I thought I'd help. And, um(she darts to where the mixing bowls are), I thought we could each make separate two dozen batches at the same time for efficiency."

"Cool. Works for me."

He's actually kind of surprised that she remembers his Billy Joel speech.

"Including," she says with a too-bright voice, "Billy Joel, to help you with all the new girls you've been making out with lately."

All he offers in response is an eyeroll. There haven't actually been many girls recently...but SHE doesn't have to know that.

"I'll be right back," she says.

He saunters over to the iPod, selects "Playlists", and scrolls through. It contains about 5 million. She WOULD have a soundtrack for every emotion and index finger rests on "Jewish Songs For Noah". He shouldn't snoop, but it's so freaking tempting...He ends up scrolling through the list. "Finn" comes up, of course. Whatever. So does Jesse St. Jackass..."Jealousy"..."Love Songs"..."Mom, Where Are You?"

..."Noah"?

The had only gone out for a week. Their break-up hadn't really affected her. Or, at least, it seemed like it hadn't.

He opens the playlist with no hesitation whatsoever

_"Sweet Caroline_"... just the title of the song transported him to the day he had proved himself to her...and to the sting of disappointment when she dumped him. Which didn't mean that he LIKED her, or some dumbass thing like that. It was more that someone had chosen Finn over him for the thousandth freaking time. Finn won everything: girls, games, teacher approval, mentors. He never really seemed to appreciate any of it.

_"Run Joey Run""Total Eclipse Of The Heart""Beth""Unbeautiful""Almost Lover""Heartbreak, Warfare""Girl Next Door""Iris""Use Somebody""That's What You Get""Happy""Why Can't I""Tangled Up In Me"..._

He scrolls through the remaining playlists to "Top 25 Most Played"...and finds that Sweet Caroline is in the Top 5, and a few others from "Noah" are dispersed within the playlist as files the songs to memory and switches it to the Jewish playlist when he hears her light footsteps.

The Cars blast from the speakers.

_I don't mind you coming here/And wasting all my time/'Cause when you're standing oh so near/I kinda lose my mind..._

"Sorry it took so long, it was hard to find a manly apron," she says, handing him a plain, white apron similar to the one she's wearing.

He's momentarily distracted by the fact that her hair is up in a long ponytail and the way it swishes between her shoulder blades when she walks, baring more of her he realizes that he's holding an apron and laughs.

"Don't think so, B."

"Noah!" she says petulantly. "You'll stain your letterman jacket, and then your poor mother will have to get them out by hand.

He shrugs, and she legitly _stamps her foot _and makes some sort of squeal/growl noise that he laughs at.

"You are _impossible_," she says, coming too close for comfort again.

He braces himself for awkwardness- will she girlishly slap him or just a scream a mile a minute in his face?- but she ends up doing she puts her hands at the top of his hard chest, his brain does something odd. It feels as if it's about to explode, if he's being honest. It's...sizzling with all this energy, like a summer storm. He's pretty sure his brain DOES explode when she pulls the zipper down on his letterman jacket and pulls it off his shoulders, unintentionally smoothing his arms with her delicate hands.

This shit is not comfortable, and apparently the feeling is mutual, because she casts her eyes down and mumbles, "There you go. I'll go hang this up."She goes into the hallway again, leaving Puck feeling vulnerable, raw, and cold in his thin, gray t-shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

It becomes less awkward when they finally start mixing the cookie dough. They talk every so often, but mainly she sings along, bouncing on the balls of her feet with that boundless energy of hers. Sometimes he joins in, and he can't help but notice that that their voices weave together really well...they just fit.

The last chords of Marc Cohn's "Walking In Memphis" fade into a new tune, this one insanely bubbly and bright.

_Sunday morning/rain is falling/steal some covers share some skin/clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable_

"Maroon 5 is a Jewish band?" he asks incredulously.

"The lead singer, Adam Levine, is."

Puck shrugs and slides the trays of chocolate chip cookies into the high-tech, preheated oven.

"Now for the bread," she says. "Don't worry, I already made the dough for this, so all we really have to do is spread the flour."

"I know."

"You know?" she parrots.

"It sticks otherwise. Bread dough can become a frickin' mess if you're not careful."

"Noah Puckerman, _Sous de Chef_," she says with a smile. "Who knew?"

"No, I'm just not a total douche, despite popular opinion. I help my mom with this sort of stuff. Not often, but it happens."

They scoop their hands into the container of flour and spread it across the bread board. Rain suddenly falls in torrents, rapping against the windows with such intensity that they can hear it, even with the music.

_Beauty queen of only 18/she had some trouble with herself/he was always there to help her/she always belonged to someone else..._

There is some sort of unspoken agreement as they stop kneading and start singing along, dancing fro separate sides of the board.

"_I don't mind spending every day_," Rachel's voice bursts out from her tiny self.

"_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_," Puck sings, matching volume.

"_Look for the girl with the broken smile_," she sings in full-out diva mode, holding the top of her head with her hands, pulling them over her hair, down her neck, and moving side to side, "ask her if she wants to stay awhile-"

"Wait, wait!" he says, laughing, "you just got a bunch of flour on your face."

_And she will be loved/ oh she will be loved oh oh..._

He comes over to her side. She stops dancing and simply looks up at him.

_Tap on my window/ knock on my door/I wanna make you feel beautiful..._

Brushing the flour from her face required touching her. He promises himself he'll get it off quickly, just like ripping off a bandaid. And yet, because he's clearly a freaking idiot, he lets his hand cradle her face for a beat too long before brushing off the powdery stuff from her cheek and her forehead with his calloused fingers. He should stop there, and she opens her mouth as if she's going to ask her to, but again he says, "Wait. You still have stuff in your hair."

He waits for her to insist that she can get it herself, but she doesn't, just keeps looking at him with those huge brown eyes that are filled with- fear? What, exactly, is she so afraid of? Hesitantly, he bends down a little(what? It's not HIS fault she's a freaking midget) to pull the scrunchie out of her ponytail, fluff her hair out with his hands, and run his fingers through her thick, silky hair. He shakes his hands out and the residue from the flour and dough falls.

He hands her the scrunchie back to her, refusing to make eye contact with anyone other than the floor.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"Yup."

-/-/-

After they've wrapped the cookies and placed the loaves in then oven, he tells her he promised his little sister he'd watch the Lion King with her. She looks a him with shining eyes when he reveals this.

"Don't think much of me, B. I'm only doing it because I've blown her off seven times already."

"At least you're doing it," she says with a shrug.

"I guess. Well…gotta go," he says, gesturing behind himself with a hooked thumb.

"Right. Um…thank you again."

"S'not a problem. Bye," he says, not wanting to go through the ordeal of her decision on hug/cheek kiss/handshake.

It's completely out of character for Hannah to squint at her brother when the tube's on. She's usually transfixed to the screen from the start, especially when one of her favorite movies is on.

"What?" he snaps.

"You don't smell like icky boy germs."

"Glad to hear it, Hannah."

"You smell like…strawberries. And shampoo. And cookies!" she exclaims, her adorable smile displaying the new teeth growing in.

"Whatever," he mumbles, as she scooches her way over and snuggles into his side.

Rachel paces around her huge kitchen. What _was_ that? Had she really felt more butterflies when barely touching Noah-him barely touching her- than when she was in the midst of full-out make-out sessions with Finn?

No.

No, of course not. It must've been hormones. Maybe…she was just feeling turned on in general because she was finally ready for- it. With Finn. Of course. Who else would she feel so sure, so comfortable with? Who else was _her boyfriend_? Who else had (sort of) comforted her when she was upset about Burt? Who else _loved_ her and so constantly?

No one else but him, obviously.

She calls Finn and tells him her parents won't be home until morning, and maybe not even then, and asks him to come over in two hours.

She schedules those two hours with painstaking care and starts to get ready

While she is in a luxurious bubble bath, she freezes and jumps out, realizing there was one very important thing she forgot to do.

Quinn leaps out of her princess bed(her mom got quite a pretty penny from the divorce, so she's living the lifestyle she's accustomed to) when she hears her phone ringing.

"RACHEL" flashes across the screen.

Why on earth would that tiresome boyfriend-stealer be calling her?

She sighs, tightening the sash on her silky, pale pink robe, and flips the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Quinn. I'm sorry to call so-"

"What do you WANT, Rachel?"

"Alright, straight to the point, then. I know this is painful for you, but-"

"My life is painful. Just come out with it."

"What _exactly_ did Finn says when you asked him out for me?"

Quinn feels a part of her glow when she remembers the first part of what he told her…and the same part sinks when she remembers his final answer.

"He said, 'I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have feelings for you, but I'm with someone now, and you know who she is."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Don't thank me. And don't call me again."

She hangs up and sinks back onto her bed, curling into fetal position. Her iPod switches songs.

_You've found hope/You've found faith,/Found how fast she could take it away./Found true love,/Lost your heart/Now you don't know who you are_

Tears fall on her porcelain cheek as she rubs her golden locket. Inside is a picture of an adorable, tall boy that she'd give anything to have back again._  
_  
_You will fly and you will crawl/God knows even angels fall/No such thing as you lost it all/God knows even angels fall…_


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, Rachel can live with that. He just needs to be honest. It's okay that Finn has feelings for Quinn. She was his first love, and she had also caused him a lot of pain. You couldn't just be indifferent to someone like that.  
So Rachel smooths Cherry Blossom lotion all over her skin and slides into a red set of lingerie(what? She reads Cosmo occasionally). She checks her body in the mirror for any flaws or stray hairs. She's lost a lot of weight since she started dating Finn(what? They started dating during swimsuit season), some of it from her already small chest, unfortunately, but hopefully her smaller waist makes up for it.  
She slides into a conservative dark green dress, not wanting to pull out the Britney look, since he hadn't seemed to really appreciate it. Her hair is still straight from when she styled it this morning, and her waterproof makeup is still intact.  
Now, if only Finn would ring the damn doorbell.

Finn finally comes, 15 minutes late. He grins when he sees her and waits for her to kiss him. Sometimes it seems like she has to initiate everything.  
"Hey, Rach."  
It's difficult to kiss him because of the huge heigt difference, and he never bends down for her, so she tiptoes, holds onto his wide shoulders for dear life, and kisses him on the mouth.  
He comes in, shuffling behind her the whole way up the stairs to her bedroom, babbling about how Artie had, like, 50 different dried pudding packs, and that some of them were GLOW IN THE DARK, and how awesome was that?  
She closes the door behind her, even though it's uneccessary. Just habit, she supposes. Making her way over to her queen-sized bed, she shoots a hopefully seductive smile over her shoulder. Finn looks confused, but ends up smiling back. She settles onto her bed and he follows, sitting so that he's facing her.  
"So, I've been thinking about our relationship, and how there are some decisions to be made. I'm sure you've been considering these decisions too…"  
His face remains blank until she finishes with, "and I think I'm ready to have sex."  
"That's awesome! But why didn't you tell me when you called? I could've, like, brought stuff."  
"I took care of that…but aren't you going to answer my questions?" she asks, brow furrowed.  
"Uh… I didn't quite catch those…"  
Her eyebrows almost shoot up to her hairline in response to this.  
"Sorry," he says quickly, "I just got distracted since you look really pretty right now."  
"Well…first off, do you have feelings for Quinn?"  
"What? No. That's crazy talk."  
"Okay…and you've told me you're a virgin. I also wanted to just double-check on that, for safety reasons."  
Without his consent, his mind flashes to Santana, writhing on top of him, red lips nipping his…  
"Yeah, of course."  
She pulls away from him and laughs.  
"No, you're not."  
"But I just said-"  
"And I saw you. You just went back there for a second."  
It was downright creepy, the way she could read his mind.  
"You're not virgin, but you're definitely a liar," she says quietly, staring at her hands in her lap.  
It reminds him of how she said that last year, right before slapping him.  
"Hey…Rachel…" he says, prying her fingers open and holding her hands, "that's not fair. You can't be mad at me because of something I did when we weren't even together…"  
"I'm not mad about that," she says, yanking her hands away, "I'm mad that you didn't tell me when I asked."  
"Lying once doesn't-"  
"You lied about Quinn, too. She told me."  
"Well, obviously she's lying because she's jea-"  
"STOP IT!" she screams, jumping off her bed. "STOP. LYING."  
She struggles with the clasp of her Finn necklace, eyes watering in frustration.  
"Okay, I lied, but I just didn't want you to get mad and I don't love Quinn or anything, and your questions seemed like they were testing me or something and-"  
"That doesn't make it okay, Finn."  
"I'm really sorry."  
She finally gets the necklace off and slides it into his hands. He stares at it disbelievingly. The necklace had cost him two weeks of work at Sheets n Things. She bends down and closes his large, soft hands over it and kisses him on the cheek.  
"I am, too."  
"Rachel-"  
"Good-bye, Finn," she tell him, arms crossed.  
She waits until she hears his car rev and take off in the driveway to fall onto the floor, covering sobs with her hands.

Puck strums his guitar slowly, lying down and staring at he ceiling. He checks his watch- almost midnight. He's strangely not in the mood for sneaking out, so he gets up to close his computer. Facebook is up(what? It's his homepage so he can check for practices. He doesn't take girly quizzes on it or anything. God.), and right before he's about to close the window, something flashes in the news feed.  
"Finn Hudson is single."  
and then  
"Rachel Berry is single."  
He doesn't realize that his breath has caught in his throat until he let's it our slowly.

Quinn is lying on her bed with her laptop when she changes her profile pic to her smiling atop the pyramid. With that secured, she clicks back to news feed.  
"Finn Hudson is single."  
She grabs a pillow and screams into it for the first time in a while. Not the screaming bit, she's done plenty of that, but the part where her scream happens out of excitement.


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel refuses to act any different, so she begins her first Finnless morning with the same vegan smoothie and workout as any other morning. She hardly slept at all last night, but no one needs to know that, so she covers the circles under her eyes with makeup and brightens her uncharacteristically dull cheeks with blush.

When she closes her locker she finds herself face-to-face with Kurt, of all people.

"Rachel," he says.

"Good morning to you, too, Kurt."

"Hey. The bitchy queen role is reserved for me, thank you very much."

She rolls her eyes as she lifts her French book to her chest.

"You would take two languages at once."

"Was there a purpose to this, Kurt?"

"Well...yes. Mercedes told me I should thank you for what you did for my father, and I actually agreed, because you didn't do what I thought you would."

"Which was?"

"Just donating a big old check yourself and taking the spotlight. But...you actually gave other people a chance to participate with that list of yours. So. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"And...hard as it is to believe, I actually am sorry about you and Finn."

Pain twists through her stomach at that, and her lip quivers despite herself.

"Oh my God. Come here."

"Kurt, you have been nothing but antagonistic towards-"

"I don't give a damn, darling. YOU need a hug."

She acquiesces and lets him hold her. Friends can appear in the unlikeliest places.

Puck sees her standing in the midst of the cafeteria, terrified, diet soda and paper sack both clutches in her hands.

He looks around. Mercedes sits with the Cheerios, Kurt is probably getting a facial or something, Mike and Tina are firmly ensconced, and Finn is, obviously, not waiting for her at the usual stop, but sitting a little farther down the jocks' table with Artie, where Puck is also residing.

Well, fuck. He can't just leave her hanging there. If Finn has a problem with it, he'll just have to put on his big boy pants and get over it.

He considers his tray for a moment: already half-scarfed mac n' cheese and a Rockstar energy drink. The food is crap anyway, so he tosses it, picks up his drink, and says, "Later."

"Where you going, man?" asks Karofsky, crushing his soda can.

"Out."

And with that he saunters down the cafeteria to where Rachel Berry is still standing, biting her lip and slowly backing up from the cafeteria.

"You're late," he says loudly, "And you must be blind or something, I was right over there."

The cafeteria lowers from an almost-roar to a low murmur. Her head swivels around. He lowers his chin and raises his eyebrows, praying she'll play along for her own sake. Apparently her various musicals and plays have paid off, because she smiles and says, "Oh, I know, right? Well, let's go already."

"You read my mind."

"So, I assume you know," she says once they've reached their final destination of the park.

It's a bit chilly out, orange and red leaves creating a heavy scent in the air. The pond nearby it covered in happily floating ducks, and the only other person in the park is an old woman on a bench, pretty far away from them. Rachel is sitting at the picnic table with Puck's spare rain jacket protecting her from the dampness. Puck uses his letterman jacket for the same purpose.

Puck frowns at her hands, which are picking at some sort of monstrosity which she called a "tofurkey sandwich" but not actually eating it.

"You should eat. I know you're upset, but...you know. It'd be a pain and a half if you passed out."

"I don't have an appetite. I even tried eating chocolate ice cream last night, soy of course, like girls are supposed to do after a break-up, and I couldn't really taste it. It tasted like a cold lump."

"You sure that's not because it's made of friggin' beans?"

"I usually like it. You're not asking me what happened."

"I'm not. And you should EAT."

"Why aren't you asking me?"

He takes a deep breath and leans over the table, folding his hands.

"I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would've already. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

She lets her chin fall in her hand. Strands of her dark hair whip around in the breeze.

"I don't know if I want to."

"You don't HAVE to."

"Do YOU not want me to talk about it?"

"What. No."

"Really."

"Well...no."

"If you're so scared of talking to an emotional girl, why did you even come to my rescue? Pity? You could've dropped me off here to sulk alone if you didn't actually...care."

He knows he's not supposed to care. It's just Rachel Berry, right? She's unstoppable and headstrong and annoying as hell and what has she ever done for him? Besides, you know. Being his friend through childhood, cleaning him off after he got slushied, talking to him about Beth, telling him was worthwhile, embarassing him in that freaking video, and arguing with everything he says.

So. A lot, actually.

"Well?"

"Yeah, I'd rather you didn't," he says, chuckling a little.

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid if I know exactly what went down, I may have to punch his face."

"It probably wasn't even that big of a deal..."

"If the duet couple broke up, it's probably a very big deal."

"He slept with Santana, before we went out, but-"

"I know," Puck says, taking a swig of his energy drink.

"You KNEW? And you didn't TELL me?"

"I figured he'd tell you. So was this just an omission thing, or-"

"No, I asked him twice. And he lied to my face. Twice. Did he tell you?"

"No, Tana did. Said he called out Quinn's name. Kind of ruined it for her."

"Ew. Well, that makes sense, actually."

"How so?"

"Well, he told Quinn he- has feelings for her. And then when I asked him about that, he lied again. So..."

"See, this is why I didn't want you to tell me. He basically fucking led you on. One of the worst things you can do, in my book."

"And how," she asked indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest, "does leaving girls right after you sleep with them rank in your book?"

"First off," he says with a smirk, "there's never any sleeping going on."

This earns him an eye-roll.

"Second off, it's not one of the worst things, because I never lie to any of those girls. I never tell them I love them, or that they're the only one I 'sleep with', or that they're the only I ever have slept with. I make it very clear that I'm not looking for a relationship and that that's not going to change just because we have sex. Some of them agree to it, some of them don't. A lot of them agree to it."

A phone trills. Rachel rummages through her purse.

"My alarm. We should leave now if we want to get to school on time."

"You set a freaking alarm?"

"Well, seven tardies leads to one unexcused absence, and on my transcript that would-"

"Yeah, except that you've never had ANY-"

"-reflect poorly, and I want to get into Julliard, so-"

"-tardies at ALL because you're so perfect it's IRRITATING."

They glare at each other for a moment, and then something unexpected happens. She laughs.

"You're impossible."

"You're MORE impossible."

He takes his car keys out of his pocket.

"Let's go, then, Miss Julliard. Don't think I could live with myself if you got wait-listed because of me."


	5. Chapter 5

Days bleed into each other for Rachel. Her schedule is perfectly mapped out. She's deciding that relationships are a distraction from her goals. She doesn't need them, she doesn't need anyone. So she tutors little kids in reading and history(math has never been her strong suit, but she's struggled through it and is, somehow, still passing Calculus), takes her one-hour long voice lessons twice a week, studies at the public library after school, and leads the Glee club with a manic, desperate sort of energy.

Despite the fact that she doesn't need anyone, a lot of people are nice to her. Finn ignores her, but Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, and Tina seem to have more sympathy for her. They seem to have forgiven her for last year's (slightly worse) abrasiveness.

Occasionally she eats and sleeps. Occasionally she goes out to the park with Noah during lunch and quizzes him on SAT words- he's revealed to her that he wants to get into a college, preferably out-of-state, but as long as it's somewhat far away from Lima he'll take it.

Two weeks after the break-up, she's at her locker when she hears Quinn giggle. She closes it, turns around, and sees Quinn and Finn engaged in some heavy PDA.

He didn't wait long at all.

Her next class is study hall. Usually she uses this to keep up her 4.0 GPA. Right now, she could care less.

_Stupid ugly bitch alone unwanted stupid stupid little girl ugly needy clingy unneeded waste of space_

She runs out to her car and realizes her car keys are still in her locker.

"Goddammit!" she shrieks, hitting her car door.

Running will just get her to the suburbs, and she doesn't really want to walk in the houses. She wants to either go home and ask her dads to call in sick, or sit in the park. Maybe even go to the swing-set. She hasn't just swung in a very long time. The weightlessness might help her forget.

Wait...Puck has study hall, too.

Rachel whips out her cell phone and texts him furiously.

Puck is woken up by the buzz of his phone. He glances around to see if a librarian noticed, but it must be his lucky day.

2 NEW TXT MESSAGES

"Noah, I apologize for interrupting your study hour, but I was wondering if you could possibly give me a ride. If you are too busy I completely understand. I hope you don't-"

He shuts it, not bothering to read the rest. Hasn't the girl every heard of abbreviations?

"Well, thank you," she says, reaching for the car door.

"Not even gonna invite me in?"

"Can you afford another unexcused absence?"

"Probably not. My mom's not home, though, and my grades have been better lately. She'd excuse it."

"Are you sure?" she asks, teasing the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth.

He should probably stop staring at her mouth. It might be making her uncomfortable.

"Yeah."

They're midway through the first Bourne Ultimatum movie(what? it was the only movie she had that he'd like. So sue her. She's not TOTALLY selfish all the time) when she finally talks.

"So. Finn's with Quinn now."

"Fuck. Already?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm just not the kind of person you miss."

She's squeezing a pillow to her chest.

"Fuck that," he grumbles, and pulls her to his chest.

Puck is about to leave the computer lab that's in between Schue's Spanish class and Bolton's Chemistry class when he hears a very familiar voice.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Schue?"

"I did. Take a seat."

"Is there a problem? My test grades in this class have been impeccable. Is there a problem with Glee? I've been extremely dedicated and really have been trying to get us to work on winning sectionals and regionals- am I being too controlling again? Are the Glee kids com-"

"Rachel. Stop. You're not doing anything wrong."

"Then what did you want to talk to me about?"

He knows he probably shouldn't be eavesdropping, but coming out right now would be incredibly awkward.

"You just...you don't seem very happy."

"Well, Finn hates me now, and we broke up, and my mother doesn't keep any contact with me at all, but, you know, I'm trying to get over it."

"That does sound really hard, but I hate to see you so upset. Maybe you should start doing something fun. You know, for you."

"I have fun."

"You don't seem to. I've seen Kurt and others offer to hang out, but you always say you're too busy."

"Maybe you should mind your own business," she snaps.

"Maybe I should. It's just a suggestion. Who knows, maybe you could even start dating again. It might help."

"Mr. Schue- no one is interested in me in that way except for Jacob, and he's just a creep. And I'm kind of grateful for it. I'm not ready to date. I don't think I will be for a long time."

"Okay, Rachel, I hear you. But could you think about what I've said?"

"Sure."

When Puck hears the door close, he comes into Schue's class with his Chem print-outs in his hands. Just because it's closer to his locker. He can give Bolton the print-outs later. But he should probably think of a better reason for Schue.

"So, uh, I was just wondering if we had a quiz coming up or something- it's almost the end of the day...gotta know what to stud-"

"You heard everything, didn't you?" Mr. Schuester asks from his desk, curly hair ridiculously shiny under the dim fluorescent lights.

"Yeah. So?"

"Do you...care about her, Puck?"

"I...don't want her to be run over by a bus."

"I think you do," Schue says, tilting his head with a smile.

"Mr. Schue, don't be whack."

"I'm not. If I remember, you serenaded her last year,-"

"-to get in her pants."

"-quit football for her,-"

"-Again, Schue, the sex-"

"-continued to stay in Glee after she left-"

"-because I kind of like it, and for Quinn-"

"-took the glist off her locker-"

"Well, that was-"

"Completely unselfish, actually. All for her. I don't think even you can argue that. You also seemed pretty serious about beating Jesse up after he egged-"

"Just proving my badassness, Mr. Schue."

They stare each other down.

"Well, here's my advice. I think-"

"I didn't ask for your advice."

"Too bad. You need to keep being her friend."

"I wouldn't exactly call us-"

"And wait. Because despite what she just said, I think she likes you. I think you have a chance with her. I think if you screw it up, you'll seriously regret it."

"That's even more whack, Schue. Rachel doesn't- she's in love with Finn. Still. And I'm just kind of there."

And then his mind flickers to her playlist. Several songs, that remind her of him.

"You're free to go," Schue says, waving his hand, a silly grin on his face.

"You're totally wrong," Puck yells over his shoulder as he leaves.

"You keep telling yourself that," Schue yells back.


	6. Chapter 6

Schue is such a moron.

Obviously the hair gel he wears has seeped into his brain or something.

Puck is on his computer, searching for primary sources for a history paper. He wonders why they make you take US history junior year when you learn it in elementary school and junior high. The first time pilgrims and harvest and Puritan morals and shit were shoved down his throat was kindergarten.

God, this is boring. Bunch of white dudes in wigs blathering on about tea and taxes and liberty while they owned slaves. God bless America.

Not that he believes anything Schue says, but...he's curious. He still remembers the songs from when he baked stuff at her house. It's a way to procrasinate.

So he googles Tangled Up In Me, which is apparently by this Canadian chick. He clicks the audio link and swivels in his wheelie chair, just listening.

_You wanna know more, more, more about me/I'm the girl who's kicking the coke machine/I'm the one that's honking at you 'cause I left late again_

That was definitely Berry- crazy. 100% crazy. Puck's seen her anger many times. He smiles, recalling her slapping Finn across the face and saying, "You're a liar." When that had happened, he felt an odd sense of lightness. He had been in the background of a lot of their moments, actually. Unnoticed.

_Can't you see I want you by the way I push you away, yeah!/Don't judge me tomorrow by the way I'm acting today_

What. How was anyone supposed to- what? Why would you push someone away if you wanted them? Chicks made no sense. At all. He already knows this, of course, but this crazy song just confirms it.

_Mix the words up with the actions do it all for your reaction, yeah! _

_Hey! Hey! _

_Get tangled up in me _

_You wanna know more, more, more about me _

_Gotta know reverse psychology_

"Every action gets an equal reaction". It was the one of the few things he remembered from the Physics class he took(what? Just because he doesn't quote Shakespeare or whatever doesn't mean there's not a brain in there). And reverse psychology...that was like...saying something but meaning something else, maybe even the opposite. Or something(what? He had to pick something for an elective. So he picked Psychology. All his P.E. credits were taken care of with basketball and football).

He leans over to pause the song.

"_Can't you see I want you by the way I push you away_..."he mumbles to himself, strumming the notes on his guitar.

So, Rachel had listened to this song. A lot. If he remembers correctly, it was Number 10 on her Top 25 Most Played List, right under I Dreamed A Dream. It was under his name, so that meant she thought about him when she listened to it. She did certain things- for his reaction. That much was true. He kind of did the same. But it was just to ANNOY her, because she was so freaking easy to annoy.

Right?

_"I recommend a sit-in."_

_"I recommend we TORCH THE PLACE."_

_"Are you QUESTIONING my badassness? I mean, look at my guns!"_

_"Your arms are lovely, Noah..."_

_"Because I don't think this relationship is gonna work out."_

_"That's cool, I was gonna break up with you anyway."_

_"No, you weren't."_

_"This cheese smells funky."_

_"That's because it's fromunda cheese."_

_"Shut it, Puckerman!"_

_"Broadway show first!"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_"I mean, every time I make out with a new chick, I talk to God."_

_"That doesn't make any sense, in fact it's STUPID."_

_"Are you calling Billy Joel stupid?"_

_"You're impossible." _

_"You're MORE impossible."_

Well, alright then.

"Girl Next Door Saving Jane," he types into the search box.

_Small town homecoming queen_

_She's the star in this scene_

_There's no way to deny she's lovely_

_Perfect skin, perfect hair_

_Perfumed hearts everywhere_

_Tell myself that inside she's ugly_

_Maybe I'm just jealous_

_I can't help but hate her_

Well, he has no idea what this has to do with him. So Rachel's not Quinn's biggest fan. Makes sense, since Quinn used to torture her. Unless...

Secretly I wonder if my boyfriend wants to date her...

Oh.

_She is the prom queen/I'm in the marching band/She is a cheerleader/I'm sitting in the stands/She gets the top bunk/I'm sleeping on the floor/She's Miss America/and I'm just the girl next door_

Well, this one is just painfully obvious. Prom queen, cheerleader, homecoming queen, etc. Quinn had always been the Queen Bee. When she was kicked off the cheerleading squad last year, she became more of an Ice Queen. By some miracle that he hasn't really bothered thinking about, she's back on top again and back on the squad. And...while he didn't admit that he was still attached to Quinn, Rachel had guessed. But he'd never thought she had, like, a problem with it.

What was the other one by that band? "Happy"?

_...I wanna be the first to call and tell you/Yesterday I heard the news/I hear you oughta be congratulated/So I guess that's what I'll do/I'm so happy for you/I could cry..._

Oh, fuck. This is about Beth. Last year, Schue had let it slip that Rachel's mom was the one to adopt Puck's daughter. This was probably supposed to be like "congratulations on having the daughter my mom actually wants". Damn.

_Listen to the sound of my head pounding/Wish that it was make-believe/Praying for the skies to open up and /Wash away your memory/I can walk around with a pretty face on/Even when I'm black and blue/What's the point in telling everybody/I'm not over you _

...

Puck rewinds the clip to make sure he isn't hallucinating from lack of sleep.

What's the point in telling everybody/I'm not over you

Well...so...kind of weird. Was she hurt when- but- she broke up with him...and rejected him AGAIN while she was still with Jesse St. Douchebag...and then she got with Finn.

Shit doesn't make ANY SENSE. At ALL.

So. Maybe...Rachel Berry had a crush on him. That was normal, and he can't blame her, exactly, as he's a freaking stud.

_More than a crush, if she had an entire playlist dedicated to you. An entire playlist filled with songs that she plays over and over again._

The thought rang through his head in Mr. Schuester's voice.

"Shut up," Puck grumbled.

Crap, he was turning more certifiable than Berry.

_She's in love with you. Stop LYING to yourself. You've seen it, strung together in little moments._

Puck leans over and unplugs his computer, even though that apparently messes up its system. He opens the window for the sobering, cold night air and let's himself fall head-first into his bedspread.


	7. Chapter 7

For some goddamn reason, Puck can't stop thinking about Rachel's playlist. He also can't help thinking about her.

Or looking at her.

Today she's wearing a deep blue sweater, a (what else?) short, white skirt, and knee-highs with Keds. Her hair is in one, long braid down her back, and during Schue's lecture on confidence it keeps moving because she keeps looking back at him and smiling. He smirks and nods in return. Does the smiling mean she still likes him? This has the potential to get awkward.

He has to grab her by the waist and lift her to his other side for the La Bamba dance number they're working at. His fingers tingle a little and he starts to feel too hot, probably because the furnace works better in here. She turns her head back, big brown eyes shining up at him when she snaps her head back(but this time it's part of the choreography).

She really shouldn't like him. He certainly doesn't like her. Sure, she's like, hot and stuff, but then she has to open her mouth and contradict every little goddamn thing he says. And critcize his effort in Glee. And boss everyone the fuck around. She still makes him want to set himself on fire, and he's pretty sure the feeling is mutual. She's downright obnoxious and sometimes he thinks she just uses those big words to piss people off. Sometimes she's okay, but a lot of the time...not so much.

When they sit back down Schue starts outlining their schedule, asking the Cheerios and the football players what days they absolutely cannot practice.

Rachel raises her hand and tells him what days she tutors.

Puck sits across the room from her with Sam and Artie. She smooths her skirt down, tugging it more down her thighs, which is really a shame.

Then she looks over at him and the corners of her mouth tug a little upward and he feels this strange, swoopy feeling in his chest.

He dislikes it when this happens.

He dislikes how his cheeks are either on fire or icy after she kisses them.

He dislikes the way she squeezes his upper arm whenever his kind wanders to Beth. He dislikes that he likes it, actually.

He dislikes the fact that her hair smells so damn good that he always buries his nose in it whenever they hug, like some sort of goddamn pussy.

He dislikes the way warmth spreads out from his ribcage whenever she praises him or smiles at him or asks him how his day was.

He dislikes the way he always seems to find her first in a crowd, before anyone else.

He dislikes the fact that she always pops into his dreams, unwanted.

He disliked it when Karofsky flirted with her and asked when she was bringing out the belly-button out again. He disliked it so much that he ended up slamming him into the lockers.

He dislikes the fact that he still grits his teeth thinking about it.

He especially dislikes the knowing smile Schue throws his way whenever Puck starts thinking about just how much he dislikes Rachel Berry.

Or how he reacts to her.

Whatever, man.

It doesn't happen because of a kiss. It doesn't happen in the midst of a rain storm. It doesn't happen because of some suitor of hers. It doesn't happen because God tells him. He doesn't "see the light", angels don't sing, and no one yells "I TOLD YOU SO!"

There is no earth-shattering, cataclysmic event. This is real life. There is no flashback, no special effects, no metaphor or foreshadowing.

He is just sitting in Glee, like any other day.

He doesn't realize that he's even been staring until she looks up at him, then ducks down again, a strand of hair falling in her face. She writes something else in her notebook, lashes long and downcast...

Then he realizes he's still staring, that somehow he forgot he was staring.

Again.

And then it just hits him. Swooping in the stomach, warming the chest, every molecule sharp and super-aware and on fire.

It hits him that if he could, he would look at her all day, every day. It hits him that he wants her so much it hurts.

Noah Puckerman is in love with Rachel Berry.

He doesn't know how long this has been going on, and he doesn't know if she knows. But he knows that he is. And he knows that the knowing terrifies him.

And he knows that he has absolutely no idea where to go from here.

All he knows is that he has never felt more clueless in his entire life.


	8. Chapter 8

"You know, I think-"

"Hmm?" Rachel asks, looking up from Puck's sheet music.

His eyes seem to have darkened from a hazel to a deep green. His forhead creases, and she wants to reach out across what she has started to internally refer to as "their table" to smooth it out.

It's thoughts like these that will get you in trouble, she scolds herself. Don't ruin it. You can't handle rejection.

"Nothing," he mutters.

Not that she's been counting, but that's the 10th "nothing" this week.

The leaves change from red to a dusky brown. More often than not frost clings to the grass in the mornings. The Cheerios(Kurt starts the trend) come to school with nonfat sugar-free pumpkin mochas ever single morning. Mercedes goes down two sizes and finally wears the honorary Cheerios skirt. Artie and Brittany flirt on almost a daily basis, much to Tina's(and Mike's because of Tina's)chagrin. Rachel hands out vitamins and hot lemon and honey coldbusters every Glee practice and says they cannot afford to get sick, that sore throats are for losers. Everyone rolls their eyes at her antics, but they gulp down anyway.

Thanksgiving break rolls in, and Puck's mom decides to change the tradition of Chinese food and soda(grape for Puck, always) for the Temple's potluck.

(This may or may not have something to do with the fact that Puck's nana was sceaming through the phone at her daughter-in-law for an hour. All he had caught was something about principles and responsibilities. His nana can be one scary lady when she put her mind to it.)

When they get there, Hannah clings to his hand, peering at everyone and tugging at her dress with her free hand. His ma had made her dress up. She was wearing polka dot tights and Mary Janes as well. His nana had almost tasered him when he answered the door in a flannel and jeans, so he was wearing old man clothes: white button down, gray slacks, and freaking loafers.

Rachel waves at him and makes her way over.

His nana must have some eligible Jewish girl radar, because she zips from her group of old lady friends the instant she spots Rachel.

"Hello, Noah," she says politely.

"Hey," he says, giving her a 'sup nod and scratching the back of his neck.

Hannah let's go of his hand and sticks out her hand.

"I'm Hannah! The cooler sibling!"

"Rachel. I don't know," she says solemnly as she returns the handshake, eyeing Puck up and down, "your brother seems pretty cool to me. But you may have better style. I like your dress."

"I like yours MORE! You look like a princess!" she shrieks, running her skinny little fingers over the soft, white-gray material of her dress.

"Personal space, brat," Puck says, trying to pull her away.

"It's fine, really-"

"Hello!" interjects Puck's nana, elbowing her way around Puck, "and who might this lovely young thing be?"

Most people are shocked upon introduction to the older woman, mainly because she looks too old to be standing up, but Rachel takes her in stride. She has finally met someone shorter than she is, but she does feel disconcerted by her sharp, calculating blue eyes.

"This is Rachel," Puck says, placing his hand on the small of Rachel's back and walking her closer to the twinkle of approval in his grandmother's eye.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ms...?"

"Mrs., darling," she says, stretching her wrinkled hand out to Rachel's young, smooth one, "I don't like any of this new age 'ms.' nonsense, and I tell the mailman so every morning I receive envelopes where they address me as such. Mrs. Puckerman.

"Well," she says, taking a step back, "aren't you two a match made in heaven?"

They regard each other for a moment before realizing they unintentionally match colors.

"Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" Hannah quips.

"NO!" they protest in unison, catching each others' eyes and breaking out into nervous laughter.

"GOD no," says Rachel, slapping a hand over her mouth and whispering "sorry" to the ceiling.

"Just friends, nana. That's all."

Mrs. Puckerman clucks her tongue and glares at each of them individually. Rachel feels as if her soul is being stripped, but Puck is used to it.

"Me thinks you two doth protest too much. Ah, well. Af al pe chain," she says cryptically, clacking back to her friends in rhee ridiculously purple heels.

"Do you have any idea what she just-"

"I'm afraid my Hebrew is rather limited, Noah."

"Mom is gonna be sooooo mad at you," Hannah squeals, clapping her hands together in delight.

"What're you talking about, weirdo?"

"You never told her Rachel was Jewish! And you guys aren't together! SHE'S GONNA KILL YOU!" she breathes out, holding her sides in laughter.

"Shit..."

"Noah," Rachel admonishes, gesturing to his sister.

"Trust me, B, she's heard way worse."

"MOM!" Hannah yells across the room.

"Hannah!" Puck hisses.

Rachel watches the tall, freckled woman with bobbed black hair turn her head from the rabbi and wave. Hannah tugs the older girl's arm and points to her, mouthing "This is her!"

She comes over and smiles questioningly.

"You must be Rachel," she says in a mellifluous, heavily-accented voice(Greek, Rachel thinks).

"I am. I'm surprised I was mentioned at all, actually," she says, casting coy eyes at Puck.

"Well, he eventually caved and told me the reason his grades are improving. He never mentioned you were Jewish, though," she said, her eyes becoming lasers on her son.

"I don't come to temple as much as I would like..."

"Same with us. Well, if was lovely to meet you, but we should get in line," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she steers her brood towards the steaming food.

"A pleasure," Rachel murmurs.

_He talked about me. He talked about me he talked about ME. To his MOTHER_, Rachel thinks to herself happily.

"Noah," Ms. Puckerman whispers as she death grips her son's shoulder, "why on earth are you not going steady with that girl?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: OK, first off to anyone who looks forward to these updates: I'm so, SO sorry it took so long! It was partly me being insane by signing up for AP classes and partly the fact that Gmail was being stupid and not saving the last parts of my drafts, which was EXTREMELY frustrating, btw. But here it is, and I hope you like it. You get to see/hear the opinions of most of the Cast about P/R so it's slightly less Puckleberry centric, though it is still very much so. If that bothers anyone, sorry. **  
**  
The sky darkens and usually remains gray. Flurries fall occasionally. The Cheerios switch to peppermint mochas, led by Kurt yet again. Rachel tells the Glee Club that she's created a reward, since she knows  
she's been pushing them pretty hard( to which they all agree a little TOO readily). One of her dads' associates owns a ski resort and has offered them all a discount to lodge their over winter break. Everyone agrees to come.

"I can't take this anymore," Kurt wails, fiddling with his beret.

"None of us can, sweetie " Mercedes says, squeezing his knee in consolation, "that's why we're all here."

"It's getting ridiculous. Even Mike's noticed, and he's completely oblivious, like all guys."

"I am. RIGHT HERE," Mike whines to his girlfriend.

"Why are we in here again?" asks Brittany, looking around the Glee storage room. Costumes burst from the racks and dusty sheet music lies, tied up, in the cubbies. The seven glee members are sitting in a circle, most of them cross-legged.

"Emergency sexual tension meeting, Brit," Santana says, examining her nail bed.

"Oh my God, I KNOW. Puck is being soooooo obvious."

Six heads swivel around to her at lightning speed, much like they did when she announced her name as Britney Spears.

"What?" she asks, blinking.

"Obviously this has gotten wayyy out of hand," Artie says, hand clinging to his brown bangs.

"I don't even see why this meeting is necessary. The solution is so obvious," Santana huffs, crossing her arms over her bright red Cheerios tank.

"We are not going to let you force them into some sexscapade. That's why this is going to be a group decision," Tina snaps.

"We are in something way deeper than lust," Kurt agrees, "I mean, have you seen them? He makes googly eyes at her face, not just her butt and boobs."

"That's never happened before," Mike says, "and get this: (they all lean in, starving for juice) he won't even watch porn with me. I offered. With BEER."

"NO!" they exclaim in unison.

"Wait, wait, wait," says the Asian girl, rolling Mike's arm off her shoulder, "you two watched porn together BEFORE?"

"Uh..."

"Michael Chang! I cannot believe- UGH!"

"Focus!" Kurt shouts, snapping his fingers.

Mercedes raises her hand.

"Yes, M?"

"I think we need a name, y'all. Every good intervention-meeting- whatever has a good name."

"I think that's a fabulous idea. Suggestions, anyone?"

"Operation Puckleberry, of course," Brittany says with a smile.

They all gape at her.

"What? Who do you think STARTED that nickname? I thought of it when I was drinking berry juice, and how it was kinda sour so I puckered...and then I don't remember if I drank the rest. But I told EVERYONE."

"You are full of surprises, girlfriend," Mercedes says, opening her palm for a slap.

"Operation Puckleberry in session," Kurt declares.

"You are such a queen," Santana snaps, "and all we need to do is pick someone in this group who has a pool to call Puck. Then invite Berry or something, loan her a bikini. They'll have hot-water sex, and then it'll all be over. You guys are such idiots. Also, does anyone have cinammon gum?"

"That's an...oddly specific request," Artie says, looking at her quizically.

"Increases the libido," she states with a shrug.

"I don't think you need it," Mercedes mutters under her breath.

"What was that?"

"LADIES. Please."

Tina raises her hand.

"Yes, Tina."

"Well, one, I don't think we elected you president, Kurt-"

"Oh my GOD," Santana says, snapping her head up from butterfly position, "Kurt's freaking President, let's move the fuck ON! I came here to scheme."

"-TWO, I have a suggestion that's not as lewd as Santana's. In fact, it should be a pretty good compromise."

"We are not going to pass notes between them so they can talk about their FEELINGS. We're not in third grade."

"I said compromise, Santana. And I think you're all going to like it, it's going to include a little holiday spirit."

"Yay!" says Kurt, clapping. "Let's hear it."

Puck rifles through his locker for his sweatshirt. He could've sworn he left it in there, but he must be going insane, because it's not in here...shit. He shouldn't have let it slip to Artie that it was his goddamn lucky sweatshirt. He's won bets, scored chicks, and miraculously passed tests with the thing. Everyone knows talking about lucky things jinxes them.

People start to filter out.

"Hiya Puck!" says a bubbly voice from behind him.

"Hey Brittany," he says, "have wouldn't have seen a dark blue sweatshirt around, would you?"

What is he thinking? He's more likely to get an accurate answer from the freaking wall.

"Right. That. Oh! Oh! RIGHT! THAT!" she screams, now jumping up and down.

Chick is starting to really freak him out.

"Deep breaths, Blondie."

"I can't screw this up...oh, okay...well...um...I think I saw it in the Glee room. Toodles! See you at the bus tomorrow!" she chirps, running away to join the remaining students.

"Why are you still here?" Puck asks upon spotting Rachel sitting on a chair in the music room.

"I could ask you the same thing," she says.

"I asked you first," he says, looking under the chairs for his sweatshirt.

"Brittany said she wanted to meet me here to talk to me, but knowing her she probably forgot."

"That's funny...I just saw her...and I was looking for this," Puck says, finding his sweatshirt completely sprawled out, almost like someone left it that way purposefully.

Odd.

"Well, I doubt she's coming, then," Rachel says, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and coming over to him.

If either of them were to look up right now, they would see a mistletoe slowly inching its way down the heating vent.

***

Upstairs, the Glee kids were watching them on a tiny camera they had planted in the upper corner of the music room.

"This isn't working," Santana says in a bored voice, "I told you it was stupid idea."

"Girl," said Mercedes, snapping her head from her crouched position over the heating vent, "I will cut-"

"Guys, there is a very simple solution to this," Mike says.

"What?" they ask in disbelieving unison.

"If they're not looking up, we just have to _make_ them look up."

***

The sound of an elephant stampede reverberates around the room.

"The fuck-"

Puck looks up at the ceiling and sees it. Rachel follows his gaze.

"Oh," she says softly.

"Yeah..."

"Well, even though we are both very much faithful to Judaism, I suppose it can't hurt to honor Christian-pagan tradition."

She walks over to him and pecks him on the cheek...

***

"OH MY GOD," Kurt shrieks, his nails digging into Brittany's arm, "she went in for a cheek kiss, this is HORRIBLE, I can't TAKE this-"

"I know!" Brittany screams, "I totally know!"

***  
Puck knows that if he actually kisses her, things will be different. Not as comfortable. Her feelings for him may have faded(god, when did he start becoming such a GIRL?). Things may be weird. He's risking an end to her random texts and smiles and driving her to school and off-campus for lunch.

But he was never one for restraint, so he turns his head. When his lips finally crash into hers, all he can think is Thank fucking GOD.

***

"YES!" Kurt shrieks, fanning himself, "Omigod, yes!"

The entire room is clapping, even Mercedes, who forgets she's supposed to be holding the kiss-bait...

***

Her eyes flutter closed and she puts her hands around his narrow, muscular hips and pulls him closer. His hands travel to her hair, which he gently holds.

And then she feels something light fall on her head.

She pulls away, staring at him the entire time, and brushes the top of her head off, catching the sprig of green leaves and berries. She remembers what she just did, who he is, who she is. This familiar, weightless feeling that she knows can come crashing down into jagged rocks of heartbreak.

"I want-"

"Merry Christmas, Noah!" she says in a painfully high voice, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

And with that, she bolts out of the room, leaving Puck standing, shell-shocked.

"So much for lucky," he mutters, balling the sweatshirt in his hands.


	10. Chapter 10

"Kurt, I need to talk to you," Rachel texts her flamboyant friend, "please come over. Bring your stuff if you can sleep over."

Puck hears fast, feather-light knocks on his bedroom door. His mom always pounds insisitently, so he's grateful it's not her.

"Come in, Hannah," he calls out, pausing Halo and placing the game controller down.

The door creaks open and she slowly makes her way over to him. She sits on the carpet and her tiny, pert nose wrinkles.

"When was the last time you vaccuumed?" she asks, seeming like a minimother.

"A while," he admits.

"You seem sad," she says, grabbing his hands and staring at him with big, solemn eyes.

"That I am, kid."

"It's because of the loud girl, right?"

"What loud-"

"Nuh-uh," she says, wagging her finger in his face, "don't even."

"What the hell are they teaching you at that school?"

"Stop changing the subtext."

"Subject."

"Whatever. You should tell her that she made you sad."

"Maybe later."

"Do it."

"You can leave now."

"Hi, Kurt," call out Rachel's dads from the couch.

"Hello!" he says brightly to his newfound mentors, baby blue duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"She's in her room," says the taller dad.

Kurt goes up the stairs, not bothering to knock on her door. None of his girlfriends care if he sees them naked, a fact that that many of his fellow straight male friends resent.

"Oh, honey," he says in dismay.

Rachel is lying on her back on her bed, staring at the ceiling and hiccupping with tears. She's wearing a neon set of pajamas covered in musical notes that he finds atrocious, but he knows better than to comment.

"I'm fat," she says,"because I ate too much chocolate, and I'm an idiot, and I'm going to die ALONE, and I also contributed to slaughterhouses because I started eating ice cream before I realized it was milk ice cream, and I still really want it and I'm SUCH A BAD PERSON!" she bawls, reaching for the closest pillow and screaming into it.

Kurt pops Clueless into her entertainment center, opens her mini fridge, pulls out the ice cream, and slides over to her bed.

"I freaking love this," he says, picking up an elegantly embroidered pillow, "it is so very classy."

"Thanks," she says with a sniffle.

"Head up," he says, putting the pillow on his lap.

She complies, and he strokes her hair.

"Well, first off, you are completely gorgeous and you know it. If anyone's getting chunky, it's me. I just want to DIE sometimes."

"Oh, please..."

"Don't 'oh please' me. Secondly, you are most definitely not going to die alone because you have people who love you. And there is one boy in particular who is very attracted to you."

She moans into the pillow.

"That is nothing to cry about, darling. He is fine. Thirdly, you don't kill cows to milk them, and clearly you are in distress, so you are within rights to have ice cream," he finishes with, handing it to her.

She stabs at it until a good sized piece comes up and slides it into her mouth, the back of her spoon facing up.

"What happened?"

"He...he..."

"Puck," he supplies, watching Cher run down the staircase in a fabulous little outfit.

"How did you-"

"Please cut the bullcrap, Rae. You two have been exchanging oh-so-not-secretive looks FOREVER."

"He- he kissed me."

"And you ran away," he says in a soothing tone.

"What? How did you know that?"

"Er...a lucky guess..." he says.

"I'd say. But..." she shakes her head, "anyway, I ran away and now he probably hates me and I'm such a LOS-"

Kurt takes his hand and covers her mouth with it.

"I swear to God, if you lick my hand I will kill you. I just put Sephora hand cream on it and it needs to soak into my skin cells."

She fumes, thinking that there is probably nothing in the world that she hates more than being shut up.

"Now, I am never ever going to forgive you if you don't repeat after me: 'I am Rachel Berry, and I'm fabulous."

"Kuuurt," she whines once he's released his hand.

"I'm Rachel Berry," she says in a dull voice, "and I'm fabulous."

"We'll work on that. Now hush and enjoy the movie."

"Kurt?" Rachel asks, her hand curled into her hair. Her friend is sleeping horizontally across the bed. Thankfully her shortness means he doesn't have to sleep over her legs and cut off circulation.

"Mmmm?" he murmurs.

"Do you think he'll forgive me?"

"Yes."

"But...why?"

"You've rejected him before, haven't you?"

"So...?"

"And then time passed, and then he kissed you anyway."

"I don't want to have to wait another YEAR for him just because I freaked out..."

"As long as you don't hook up with Finnocence, it won't be that long."

"I have to see him in 5 hours..."

"WHAT?"

"The bus..."

"Oh my God, I need to get ready," he says, jumping off her bed.

"You need five hours to-"

"My God, Rachel, it's like you don't know me at all."

"Tall skinny vanilla latte," says Quinn.

Rachel writes the last order down and looks at the present members.

"Oh, I just noticed," she says in a chirpy voice, "does anyone know where Puck is?"

Brittany coughs loudly, so loudly that Will touches her back in concern.

"Probably late, like he is to everything else," Mike says, "but I'll text-"

A black truck swerves into the parking lot, going at least twice the speed limit. It takes up two parking spots at a diagonal angle when it parks.

Puck walks over, holding his suitcase with whitened knuckles.

"Hey," he says groggily, dropping it in the pile.

"Hello, Noah," Rachel says with wide eyes, "I'm taking orders for Starbucks, do you want coffee?"

"Nah," he says, bumping fists with Artie.

"Oh…okay."

He doesn't even spare her a glance, just kneels down and take an earbud from Artie.

The driver opens the automatic door for Rachel, and she offers him a grateful smile.

Once she passes out the last drink, she realizes that all the pairs of seats are full. Kurt mouths "sorry" and shares a smirk with Mercedes.

She goes all the way to the back of the bus to see if there are any empty seats, and finds Puck with an empty seat beside him.

"May I?" she asks tentatively, holding her cup of green tea with both hands.

"Can't sit on the floor, can you?"

"Well…no," she says, coloring.

"I'll get up. I know you like the window seat," he says in a softer tone.

She has no idea how he knows this, but she complies.

They sit, side by side, each with their own music player, each immersed in their own thing. Rachel alternates between SAT, ACT, and AP practice tests, while Puck doodles and plays solitaire on his iPod.

He's never been able to sleep in moving vehicles. Also, for some reason he feels pumped with caffeine and super-aware of everything around him, despite denying Rachel's caffeinated offer. Even the rain pouring down the windows seems weirdly sharp and in-focus.

When the sky darkens, she falls asleep. He tries to, for a while, and then all the thoughts fly out of his head and he can't remember anything, so he must've been asleep.

When he wakes, he sees the top of her head, and it takes a while to process the fact that she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. A sound emits from her mouth that sounds like a cross between a coo and a sigh, and she burrows her nose into his shoulder.

He smiles, smells the sweetness of her hair, and falls into sleep again.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a long day of skiing(or not-skiing- the beginners, like Rachel, had spent most of the time falling). Rachel had relieved most of her sore spots with a hot shower. She's ready to change into a robe and have some hot chocolate...

"Berry! Get your ass out here!" Santana shrieks.

Of course.

"Coming," she calls, wrapping the white, fluffy towel the lodge provided more tightly over her chest.

She pads through the hallway.

"What, exactly, was so important that-"

She stops in her tracks when she reaches the toasty fireplace-warmed living room and finds Santana sprawled on the couch...with Puck standing behind her, hands in pockets. His eyes widen and his gaze lingers somehow everywhere on her at once, and then he ducks his head and pivots around.

Santana glances up at the sudden silence, giggles at the scantily clad Rachel, and positively guffaws when she turns her head and sees Puck's backside.

"You have got to be kidding me...I cannot believe this is you, Puck. This is just freaking adorable," she says, clapping her hands in approval.

"Shut the fuck up, Santana," he says in a surprisingly vicious tone. He's told her to shut up countless times before, but always in a joking way.

He shifts his leg a bit, which, by the way, only exacerbates his...problem.

"Yes?" Rachel squeaks. She knows it's shallow, but she's incredibly grateful for the fact that her legs are shaved(she wasn't about to embarrass herself in front of the girls).

"I made him come over and he agreed to sneak the guys in later tonight...coed always makes things a bit more interesting, don't you think, Rachel?" she says, letting the tip of her tongue peek out and likcing her lips.

"Leaving now," Puck mutters, all but sprinting for the front door.

"You know you love it!" Santana yells, throwing a pillow after him. It bounces off his back before he swings the door open, slams it shut, and leaves.

"Anyway. That was annoying. But really entertaining. So, I thought we could-"

"Santana!" Rachel finally yelps now that Puck's gone, "why didn't you tell me there was company?"

"Oh my God, first off, Rachel, you sound about seventy years old. Puck is not 'company'. Second off, I had no idea you were going to come strolling in naked. That's like, something I would do. I thought you had inhibitions and stuff."

"I am not naked," Rachel protests petulantly, blushing and crossing her arms.

"Not only are you pretty much almost naked, but you're wet and your hair is dripping and just complete sex. No wonder he left."

"I just saw Puck scoop snow into his pants," Brittany yells, opening the door and bringing in a blast of cold air, "it was really weird. He was running, too. Luckily no one else was out there or he might have been arrested or something."

She begins unraveling her scarf, but she stops midway when she sees Rachel standing with goosebumps growing on her lithe arms.

"Oh. Oh wow. You're hot," she says appreciatively, appraising her with hands on her hips.

"I hate all of you!" Rachel yells, holding up her towel as she storms off.

"She needs to mix it up a little, that acts getting pretty old," Santana says observantly, turning back to Seventeen magazine.

"I will break your door down," Santana yells, pounding on the door to Rachel's assigned bedroom.

"Just let the freak be, Tana. They're coming in like ten minutes, so just give up," Quinn yells from the bathroom across the hall, dabbing her lips in gloss.

"Oh, please," Santana shoots back, "you'd LOVE her to not come out, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Quinn mutters.

Santana gives up on Rachel(for now) and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm a Christian, Santana," Quinn says prissily.

"Oh, please. You're not my type anyway."

"What do you want, then?" she asks, coating her eyelashes in mascara.

"You should use brown, not black. It goes better with green eyes."

"Whatever."

"Green, however, is not a good color on your face," Santana says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not jealous. I just want her out of the way."

"Do you realize how that sounds?"

"Hey, she can do whatever and whomever she wants. And Finn barely even talks to her anymore," she says, slapping the wand back in rather forcefully, "he just texts her a lot."

"Which you know because he reads them out loud to you to make sure there are no errors in a sickeningly adorable way..."

"Nope."

"Ah. Well, don't get too clingy. Boys don't like that."

"Boys don't like sl-"

Quinn stops mid-sentence and purses her lips.

"Boy's don't love sluts," she corrects herself.

"Fuck you," Santana spits out.

"I don't want you to tear my hair out, I just did it," Quinn says, fluffing up her blonde curls.

"We can have another catfight later," Santana says, "that'll help you spice things up with Finn."

"I hate you," she says in a singsong voice.

"I love you too," Santana chirps, making her way out.

"You are not wearing that," Santana says once Rachel finally lets her in.

Rachel is wearing a white turtleneck sweater with gray slacks.

"It's less than 30 degrees outside. I don't see the problem. Just because I'm not dressed like YOU-"

Santana looks down at her paper-thin black tank top and rolled-up-to-the-knees McKinley High sweats.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. This is MODEST. I mean, I'm wearing a bra."

"...okay then. Well, I think that was the doorbell. So it's too late to do anything about it anyway-"

Before she realizes what's happening, Santana slams her against the wall.

"Santana, you're very attractive, but-"

"So are you. Look, I'm really bored. But I didn't do that to make out with you. I need to tell you the plan."

"The...?"

"Like, I said, I'm really bored," she says, still holding her by the shoulders, "I need a mission. I know Puck has been avoiding you like the plague. I'm going to make sure he comes running to you. How does that sound?"

"I don't like playing games..." she says softly, nibbling at her bottom lip.

"You miss him like hell," an odd look coloring her face, making it...softer? Maybe sympathy, but Rachel doubts this, given that Santana's bitch armor is extremely thick. Everything seems to bounce off her.

"I do, actually. Alright, " Rachel concedes, "what exactly are we going to do?"

"Practice," she says with a lascivious smile.

"I never...got caught having sex," Finn says, sticking his lip out and nodding.

Everyone in the circle catches everyone else's eyes, the way they have every I Never statement.

Brittany and Santana shrug and sip their amarettos. Puck smirks and sips his beer. Rachel's eyes widen and she looks down at her lap, holding her hands. Brittany frowns at this, and Finn just looks confused.

Mike drinks his beer and Tina gasps and slaps him on the shoulder.

"When was THIS?" she shrieks.

"Asian camp. Two years ago," he says, "but it was honeslty kind of awkward, since they counselor was like, seventeen."

"Fuck yeah," Puck says, reaching across the the circle to fist-bump with him.

"I, personally, don't see the appeal of older women," Rachel says with a smile, "so you're not alone, Tina. I mean, wouldn't they be washed up? Or something..."

"I don't think they're all that washed up when they're only, like, two years older," says an oblivious Finn, his forehead wrinkling.

Everyone gives him an "are you serious" look.

"So anyway," says Mercedes hurriedly, "how many times has this happened with y'all? Sounds like it might be hilarious."

"Later it is," Puck says with a nod, disregarding the rules and drinking his beer again, "during, not so much."

"It's happened to me..."

Everyone waits while Brittany counts on her fingers.

"seven times. Once was at this guy's house, and his little brother walked in, and I felt really bad for like...uninnocentizing him. But then he asked me if he could watch, and I didn't feel bad anymore," she says, shaking her head.

"What a perv," Mercedes says, tiny nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I had a similar situation. The dad came in, and he was totally checking me out," Santana says with an eye roll.

"Yet another reason why straight men are gross. No offense," he says, gesturing to the group with a fancy gesture, letting his hands fan out.

"I concur," Rachel says, tugging at her collar.

"Oh, really?" Puck says, his eyes narrowing.

"Well! In the spirit of that...I 'never' kissed a girl," Santana says in a deep, sexy voice, sipping her amaretto again.

Brittany giggles and drinks her amaretto as well. Tina sighs and drinks her Sake(what?She tries to be more Asian for Mike. So sue her).

"Whoa. I would've LOVED to know about this," Mike says.

"I got that vibe from you," Puck says, "not surprised. At all."

"Who was it?" asks Quinn.

"No one important. Just some girl from an anime convention," Tina says.

"Quinn. I'm not surprised you didn't drink, because you have such a stick up your ass. I'm not surprised about you, either, Mercedes, just because I don't get an experimental vibe at all. But you're AWE-some," Santana says, tipsily, chuckling, "but Rachel. I'm surprised at you. All those female idols. Madonna,

Barbara, Idina Menzel, Emmy Rossum."

"Well, I've never gotten the chance," she says demurely, parting her lips slightly, turning her head to Santana, who is looking back at her, chin in hand.

The boys' glances bounce back and forth like ping-pong balls at this.

"We can't have that," Santana says with a glossy-lipped grin.

Rachel lets her head fall a bit to the side and moves towards her lips at an incrementally slow speed.

The reactions that occur when their lips finally do crash together are varied.

Brittany pouts. Mercedes nods approvingly. Mike howls and claps, and Tina glares at him for doing so. Finn stares and then runs out of the room, muttering something to Quinn about having to "take care of things". Kurt smiles and says, "to each their own".

And Puck, the reactor to whom they were hoping most to react, shows no change of expression whatsoever.

"That failed miserably!" Rachel shrieks, pacing in Santana's room.

"I'm sorry," Santana moans for possibly the thousandth time, "I don't know what went wrong. That's seriously never happened before."

"Oh my God."

Rachel stops pacing and sits on Santana's bed.

"He doesn't like me. I've been freaking out about him liking me, and he doesn't. He doesn't even think I'm hot. He...he just kissed me because there was a mistletoe, and that's what you DO. If he wanted to for any other reason, he would've done it before. This is so obvious, I don't know how I didn't see-"

"Yeah, that's totally not true."

"But it makes sense, Santana!"

"How the hell does it make sense, Berry?"

"He didn't react to the little black dress I wore for Finn when we were doing that stupid hairography thing, he didn't react when I wore that Britney outfit, even though every other guy did...and he didn't react to me making out with YOU."

"Yeah, alright, Virgin Mary, I admit that's a bit weird, but you're omitting the fact that he ran away when you were in your towel."

"That's because it was awkward. And I resent your accusation, by the way."

"I have virginity radar. And MAYBE he would've found it hot if you changed into something more hot," she snaps, smacking the pouting girl with a pillow.

"Hey!"

"Also, you are wrong because obviously you didn't see the tent on his jeans."

"Really?"

"Please, he's...huge," she says, demonstrating the length with the position of her hands, "It was embarrassingly obvious."

"Thank you. Now the image of you two having intercourse is forever seared-"

"English, Berry. Jesus Christ."

"That still doesn't explain everything else."

"Well," Santana says slyly, "we'll just have to find out then, won't we?"


End file.
